Sonnet To Lord Bothwell - 10 Poem by Mary Stuart

You trust in her; alas I see too well you do!
And you cast doubt upon my constancy,
(You, who are the only joy and hope for me.)
And I cannot persuade you I am true.
You think I'm fickle, it's plain to see,
And thus you will not grant your confidence.
You mistrust my heart without evidence,
And your suspicion does great wrong to me.
You do not heed the love I bear at all.
You suspect some other love has me in thrall.
You value all my words no more than wind.
You picture my sad heart malleable as clay.
You think I am a woman with no mind.
All that makes love burn fiercer day by day.